


do not fall in love with people like me

by jacquessaintlaurent



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, SteveTonyFest, but really nothing graphic at all, this is so late oh god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1922091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquessaintlaurent/pseuds/jacquessaintlaurent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this. this was so, so late. jesus christ. i am a horrible human being.</p><p>gifted to tumblr user nowhiteflags for stevetonyfest, who asked for drama and angst. since i didn't know your triggers or anything, i kept this as general as possible. there are no graphic depictions of violence or torture, and the only on-screen hurt is emotional hurt. i promise. there's a lot of drama and angst, but i kept it a happy ending because i am physically incapable of writing sad endings for stevetonyfest, which i use as an excuse for rainbows and kittens and fluff and happy things.</p><p>title from that great poem that's been going around tumblr but no one seems who know who actually wrote.</p><p>this is probably the most serious fic i've written, and it's really not my style, but i hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	do not fall in love with people like me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nowhiteflags](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nowhiteflags).



> this. this was so, so late. jesus christ. i am a horrible human being.
> 
> gifted to tumblr user nowhiteflags for stevetonyfest, who asked for drama and angst. since i didn't know your triggers or anything, i kept this as general as possible. there are no graphic depictions of violence or torture, and the only on-screen hurt is emotional hurt. i promise. there's a lot of drama and angst, but i kept it a happy ending because i am physically incapable of writing sad endings for stevetonyfest, which i use as an excuse for rainbows and kittens and fluff and happy things.
> 
> title from that great poem that's been going around tumblr but no one seems who know who actually wrote.
> 
> this is probably the most serious fic i've written, and it's really not my style, but i hope you enjoy!

Tony woke up to pain.

He was screaming before he was fully conscious, his hoarse, incoherent pleas tearing out of his throat without permission. He stopped - gasped - let out a sob - and threw his head back and screamed, again, the pain washing over him mercilessly, like an all-encompassing caress.

Just as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped. Tony let out a desperate gasp, too shocked to do anything else. Before he could - do something, anything, he supposed, try to get up or even just look around - black boots stepped into his line of vision, and rough hands efficiently and violently gagged him with a strip of cloth that tasted like dirt and grime and - blood. Tony tried not to throw up.

The man in the black boots spoke up. It was impossible to tell what he was saying - Tony had never heard the language before, but he did not mistake the guttural sounds and harsh noises the man was making for anything but the threat they very obviously were. After a last spit-out insult and a kick to Tony’s bruised ribs - funny, he didn’t remember bruising them - the man left.

Tony wondered where Steve was. The last he remembered, he was waking up next to - no, that was a week ago. Tony’s throat closed up. They were fighting, the last Tony remembered. They’d been fighting for a week. That wasn't a surprise - they fought regularly, about everything, and a week was definitely not the longest they’ve fought. But they always made up before a mission or anything remotely dangerous.

Until this one.

It was stupid. Steve never liked it when he did something a little bit reckless, and Tony was always in a bad mood whenever Steve was upset with him. One thing led to another, as it always did with them, except this time, before the mission, Steve wouldn't look at him. And Tony, being the stupid fucking asshole that he was, wouldn't look at Steve either, once he had figured out that there wasn’t going to be an apology from Steve’s end.

Steve.

Tony fought down the rising lump in his throat. He remembered - he remembered a burning warehouse, and screams. So of course he went in. Of all the goddamned cliches in the book - he remembered Steve. Shouting at him.

“Dammit, Iron Man, this is why we’ll never work!”

That was the last thing he remembered.

* * *

 

It’d been at least an hour.

Tony had tried calling out, but the gag made it difficult for him to make noises in general. He’d tried getting out of his restraints, but his cuffs seemed to be made a solid iron attached to the wall - high quality villainy. He guessed that he was somewhere underground, going by the air quality and smell. Where exactly, he had no idea.

Steve’s fine, Tony told himself fiercely. He’s fine. He’s coming back for me, even if he doesn’t-even if he doesn't love me anymore. He’ll come.

He choked a little on the thought.

A few minutes of nothing later, the same pair of black boots walked back into Tony’s line of sight. The gag was violently ripped out of Tony’s mouth, and a pair of beefy hands grabbed at his shirt. Steve’s shirt, Tony suddenly realized. Steve had been living with Tony for so long that there were no clear boundaries as to whose things were whose anymore. More often than not, Steve would be wearing one of Tony’s Black Sabbath t-shirts, a little tight around the shoulders - not that anyone was complaining - and Tony would end up swamped comfortably in one of Steve’s larger shirts. The shirt still smelled of Steve, and of home.

Tony cringed at the thought of the guy’s filthy hands touching Steve’s shirt. The man noticed, leering a little bit and leaning closer to Tony, his sour breath ghosting over Tony’s face. “Listen,” the man spat out with a thick accent. “You listen to what I say. Do what I tell you. Then we see about your freedom.”

Tony scoffed, unafraid. “You think I’ll actually agree to that? I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to, fuckface.”

The man just smiled and took a step back. Another voice, painfully familiar, spoke up from beyond Tony’s vision. “Oh, I think I know exactly who I’m talking to.”

Disbelief clouded Tony’s brain as a tall, muscular figure walked - no, sauntered - into sight.

No, it couldn’t be - but. Nothing made sense.

“...Steve?”

The figure - not Steve, not Steve, it couldn’t be Steve - dipped his head and twisted his mouth in a strange approximation of a smile. It didn’t sit well on Steve’s face, which was supposed to be open and relaxed and nice all the time. Tony didn’t like it.

“That’s me.”

It was Steve’s voice. There was no doubt in Tony’s mind about it.

“...Fuck, no, Steve, what the fuck - what the fuck is happening...?” Tony would deny until his dying breath that his voice was trembling, just a little.

Steve’s mouth twisted into a crueler shape, almost mocking Tony. “What do you think is happening, Tony? I'm coming for what I've wanted since the day I met you."

Confusion clouds Tony's mind, making it hard to comprehend anything. Steve - not Steve, he thinks, but it's getting harder to remember how he knows that it's not Steve - smirks a little and reaches out, wrapping his hand around Tony's face in a mockery of a caress. He leans in until Tony can feel his breath ghosting against his cheekbones and Steve's face is all he can see.

Steve's other hand comes up to tangle in Tony's hair, pulling him up until he's eye to eye with him. He laughs softly, the sound curling in Tony's mind like poison gas. "Oh, I'm sorry," he murmurs. "Did you think I stayed for something else?"

"Steve," Tony chokes out, because only one word will come to mind, and Steve chuckles again, brushing his thumb against Tony's cheek, and against his will, Tony leans into the touch.

"Look at that," Steve whispers. "Pathetic. You’re the most infuriating, the neediest, the worst human being I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Did you honestly think I liked you? I have no idea what others see in you. Other than your technology, you’re useless.” Steve leaned in, face twisted in a mockery of its usual innocence, spittle flying from his mouth. “So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to give us the blueprints of your arc reactor. You’re going to build the weapons we tell you to build. The Jericho missile business in Afghanistan was messy, but we’re smarter than they were. You’ll do what we tell you to do.”

“Steve,” Tony sobbed, trying to shrink away and reach for him at the same time. “No, Steve, please. Listen to me - Steve. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, Steve, stop - ”

Steve laughed, only it wasn’t like Steve’s laugh at all, it was cold and hard and cruel. “Still begging for me, even as I’m ripping you apart? You’d probably stay there and let me kill you slowly, just because you need me so much. You’re worthless without me, Tony. Completely worthless. What are you going to do now that you know I don’t want you anymore? You’d probably still do whatever I tell you to do. That’s how fucking pathetic you are.”

Tony tried to block his words out, tried to believe it was all a bad dream. Steve wouldn’t do this, Steve was nice and caring and even if he didn’t want Tony anymore - Steve would never do this. Would he?

Suddenly, the shirt - Steve’s shirt - which had comforted Tony so much before felt like acid on his skin. Tony twisted in his restraints, trying to get away from anything, everything, his own skin.

When he eventually fell unconscious, it was with wet tear tracks on his face and the dull pain of knowing that no one was coming for him buried into his chest.

* * *

 

“Tony? Tony, can you hear me?”

Tony regained consciousness slowly and painfully, as if waking from a bad dream. Everything hurt. He tried to remember what had happened - another fight against a supervillain? - and then it hurt to breathe, for multiple reasons.

He struggled to sit up, only to find himself trapped between a familiar body and strong arms.

He tensed - froze completely - then, a second later, started clawing at anything he could reach, pushing at the body and tearing away from arms, just trying to get away, stay away, run away from Steve - Steve, who like to cuddle with him during horror movies, who would start tickle contests at the weirdest times, like in the middle of reenacting some stupid cheesy musical together - who hurt to look at, because that wasn’t Steve, that was all fake - Steve didn’t want him. Had never loved him.

Tony wanted to throw up. Distantly, he realized that his restraints had disappeared, leaving him free to run. He didn’t get far, however, when a pair of hands caught him at the elbows and pulled him back. “Tony - Tony! It’s me, you’re safe, calm down, Tony. Tony, baby, it’s me. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

Tony was shaking. He shrank away from Steve, scrabbling away from his arms, and ignored the brief flash of hurt that passed over Steve’s features, ignored how Steve’s arms were still reaching out to him. “Stop - get away from me. I don’t know you anymore-don’t come near me. Get him - get him away from me, please-”

He was still trying to get away from Steve when something hard hit him in the back of his head and he blacked out for the third time since waking up in this hellhole.

* * *

 

“Is he going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine, physically. None of his injuries were serious, compared to what he’s been through in other situations. Don’t worry, Steve. He’ll wake up soon.”

A pause. “Mentally?”

Bruce sighed. “He should be fine, but given how he acted when he saw you - we’re not certain. There’s no way of knowing what exactly they did to him, or what they had the hologram of you tell him. Whatever happened, it’s certainly messed him up, but Tony’s tough. He’ll make it through.” He gave Steve a tight lipped smile, then excused himself to the bathroom.

Tony woke slowly after Bruce left. Steve couldn’t stop himself from gripping the injured man’s hand tightly, as if he could disappear at any time.

Tony groaned, turning his head towards where Steve was sitting, and for a moment, pure terror flashed through his eyes and his muscles tensed. Steve clenched his jaw to keep from reaching out and grabbing him.

“How are you feeling?”

Tony blinked up at him, confused.

“Whatever he said. It was a lie,” Steve blurted out, unable to let Tony keep believing in whatever lies he’d been told. It was probably selfish of him, but when it came to Tony, he couldn’t stop being selfish. “They used a hologram - it wasn’t really me. Tony, please, I’d never - whatever I said before the mission about us was a lie too - I love - pleasedon’tleaveme.”

Tony blinked again, slowly. “A hologram?” His voice sounded a bit muddled. A small frown creased his brow. Steve wanted to kiss it away, but he wasn’t sure if he was still welcome. He took a deep breath.

“Tony - I - what I said before. About us not working. That was a lie, too. I miss you, and when you were taken - I - I was so worried, Tony, I was terrified, more than I’ve ever been in my life. All I could think was that you could - die, you could die without ever knowing how much I - cared about you, and. I care. Very much. Even if it doesn’t seem like it. Whatever the assholes did to you in that place, Tony, I swear, whatever they said about me was false. I care about you. Too much.”

Steve kept his hold on Tony’s hand, but averted his eyes down. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tony’s face, to see the hurt and betrayal and - disgust, almost - he saw when he first found Tony and woke him.

There was a small grunt of pain. Steve looked up to see Tony trying to use his other arm, which was attached to various tubes and machines, to reach him. Steve caught Tony’s hand quickly and held on, both of Tony’s hands in his. Tony smiled softly up at him.

“Apology accepted. I’m sorry, too - ”

“No.” Steve said firmly, ignoring the relief and warmth that spread through his chest. “Not now. Get some rest.”

Tony’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he seemed to hesitate a bit before rallying. “Will you. Stay with me?”

He turned hopeful eyes onto Steve, and who was Steve to say no?


End file.
